Episode list poem
by geekbydefault
Summary: I decided to take the names of all the episodes up to season 5, episode 10 and make a poem from Dean's POV with them.


**Episode list poem**

_The Supernatural episode list (so far) as told through Dean's POV._

_. . ._

Here we are, driving down yet another road, just one of so many. The only thing that matters is that we are together.  
The sound of the engine reminds me of the one of a plane. I'm a **pilot** soaring, with my faithful companion beside me.

Everything seems so easy when you're with me.

My Sammy.

Remember when we killed that **wendigo**, what I told you in the forest? That you had to have patience. I'll never leave you, never let go of you.  
Ever.  
Even if I would find you **dead in the water** of a lake or a tub, I would find a way to get you back.  
I have before, I can do it again.

We've managed to face beings like a **phantom traveller**, demons and ghosts all over this country and maybe not celebrated with a **Bloody Mary**, but with a beer or two.

There's nothing we can't do as long as we have each other.

The bond between you and me is more than **skin** deep, it's something more than just by blood.

I remember when I thought for sure the **hookman** was gonna get you and it **bugs** me out knowing I can't always save you.  
Keep you safe.

Provide a **home** for you, cus every place we stay at, every place we go is like an **asylum** packed with mad people trying to tear us apart.

We have nothing but each other and there is nothing we won't do to save one another.

You even gave up your quest for a normal life the moment you saved me from the **scarecrow** and for that I am forever grateful. It cost you so much, I know that.

But I'll never loose **faith** in you Sammy.  
I never have and I never will.  
Even though at times it feels like we're on **Route 666**, our own highway to hell, I'll never let the **nightmare** get us.  
Not again.

Never gonna let anything take you from me, like **the Benders**-looking creeps of human beings that snatched you, lurking in the **shadow** and brought you to their **hell house**.  
There was definitely **something wicked** running in their blood lines for making a **provenance** over the people they had murdered.

The sight of a **dead man's blood** gave them no regrets and my gut tells me **salvation** won't find their souls down in the pit.

I was searching for it myself, caught like in a **devil's trap in my time of dying** after that demon crashed into our car.  
The sensation of despair and need to get back into my body to continue hunting with my pain in the ass little brother.  
A brother who changed my mind and made me understand why not **everybody loves a clown**. They can be some scary sons of bitches, filled with **bloodlust** and rage.  
That's also why **children shouldn't play with dead things** – they can come back to haunt your ass.

Children's games can be cruel cus if **Simon said** you're to stay put there is **no exit**, not until he says so. That's why the **usual suspects** always get the **crossroad blues**, the very thought of never getting out is terrifying.

I should know.

The first time we encountered the **Croatoan** virus I thought I had a way out from our lives as hunters. I figured if you died, I wanted to die too and then it would all be over.

Little did I know that we were the ones being **hunted**. That we were nothing more than **playthings** that time, puppets strung up played out and completely unaware of things to come.  
So like a **nightshifter** silently carrying out his work, we kept living our lives in silence, not once looking to the **houses of the holy** for guidance or help.  
At least I didn't.

That's why some would say I was **born under a bad sign**, destined to always attract danger. Our very lives sounds like **tall tales**, myths told over and over again until the origin of it is as recognizable as a **roadkill**.  
But there is one thing that can never be broken, that no demon, ghoul or angel can touch and that is my **heart**. Because not even by experiencing some sort of **Hollywood Babylon** did my heart ever stray from the right path.  
Our path, the Winchesters'.

True, we did let ourselves, on my accord, get thrown into jail, but we never did get the **Folsom prison blues**, did we?  
Besides, I was right that time and we did the job.

And if there's one thing I've learned in my life it's that what we have, is all we have.  
We can ponder back and forth on **what is and what should never be**, but the fact remains that without you Sam, **all hell breaks loose**.  
When we are not together as a team, **all hell breaks loose**. Like cowboys in **the** **Magnificent Seven** we ride towards the sunset together in the trusty Impala.

We do what it takes to make sure that **the kids are alright** and that not a **bad day at Black Rock** will have them turn their homes into a **sin city**.  
To make sure they keep getting **bedtime stories** read to them and not the kind of stories we grew up in. The kind that ended with a **red sky at morning**, painted by **fresh blood** from a knife or a rifle.  
To make sure that the children gets to open presents that doesn't relate to **a very supernatural Christmas**, but to a normal one.  
A safe one.

All the evil got to our heads, how could it not?

Dad once gave you a copy of the **Malleus Maleficarum** and it made you **dream a little dream of me** where I was stuck in a **mystery sp**ot with no way out.  
You woke up screaming and that morning we swore to each other that we would never abandon one another.  
To do whatever's necessary to stay together.  
All is fair in love and war right?

Well, this is both.  
So we slap a little **jus in bello** in the faces of all the evil we hunt. Acceptable practices, a fair trade for another night's good sleep for the people on the world.

For us.

Sometimes we've had involuntary help, like the "help" we got from the **Ghostfacers**.

Can't really blame them for having a thorn in their side towards us, remembering that fake **long-distance call** we made about their non-existing movie deal.

We took the time for a little prank or two, took the time to find an ounce of fun in our otherwise dark lives.

Back then I figured **time is on my side**, but I was proved wrong. I didn't know then how well I would experience that there really is **no rest for the wicked**, even when the wicked in this question was me.

I'm sorry that I left you, but I'm not sorry for giving my life in trade of yours.

But who would've believed that like **Lazarus rising** from the dead would I be risen from hell by an angel?

How many times didn't I pray down in the pit?  
Cry out in my head; "**are you there God, it's me…Dean Winchester**" only to be answered by the cries of other souls being tortured.

Still I kept praying.  
Save me.  
Help me.

**In the beginning** I fought the evil that tore at me but after thirty years of torture my soul went through a **metamorphosis**. I became something I hated.  
Something I hunted.

I was something out of a **monster movie**, hateful and dead inside at the same time.

Tearing up people as was torn at before. Tearing into their flesh, each cut tearing of a part of me.

So many times I wished it was all just a bad dream caused by a **yellow fever** that wouldn't have me go belly up. I started hallucinating, daydreaming if you will, of better days.

I remembered a Halloween, you couldn't have been more than five and you asked me to tell you a ghost story. At first I thought you'd found out what dad did, why we were living the way we did, but I quickly realized that you were just a kid wanting to hear a story.

My imagination isn't the best so I played with an old Peanuts tv-special and renamed it so it said **it's the great pumpkin, Sam Winchester**, instead of Charlie Brown.  
I made you the lead character of the story, a boy on the hunt for candy, not for ghosts, a boy who was playing with his friends.

Later I came to understand that my modified story was my own **wishful thinking** of how I wanted life to be for us.

I wanted us to be happy and normal, go to camps so if you wanted to tell your friends about it but memory failed you, I could say "**I know what you did last summer**". We could laugh and play and do what other kids do.  
But even then I knew that would never be the life for us.

We're destined to always be caught in a place between **heaven and hell**, purgatory, which in itself is a type of hell.

The only thing we could rely on was that two things would always be true; **family remains** and that son of a bitch **Criss Angel is a douche bag**.  
Seriously, what is his deal?  
Anyway, I'm glad I've got you Sam, now and back then. From an **after school special** kicking some poltergeist's ass, to adulthood and doing pretty much the same thing, but with style and precision.

And girls.  
Lots of pretty girls along the way. Come to think of it, that's how my life could be summed up really. It's all based on **sex and violence**, sometimes even at the same time.

But that's besides the point I'm trying to make.

What I'm trying to say is that sometimes I dream that **death takes a holiday** for good, spare us from constantly living **on the head of a pin**. The smallest move in the wrong direction and it all come tumbling down.

No more searches for **the monster at the end of this book** that is our life.

Only peace.

But I know that such wishes is to **jump the shark**, it's just not going to happen.

It is just as likely as **the rapture** taking place right now **when the levee breaks** and we are flooded by demons that scurries the earth.  
We were there, we both saw **Lucifer rising** from the deepest pit to claim our planet as his own.

But we are not showing any **sympathy for the devil**, no freaking way.

This is war and no matter how many **good** **god y'all**'s they throw at us, I know what it's good for.

It's for every living human being on this earth.  
For us to be **free to be you and me** – always, so that in **the end** it's us who are standing strong.  
Surrounded by **fallen idols**, we rise above them all.  
And **I believe the children are our future**, so we really need to win this war. If we don't they'll have no future to wake up to.

So we will win.

Then maybe one day they'll read the tale of **the curious case of Dean Winchester** and sing hymns written for the Winchester gospel.

Instead of changing watch posts they'll be **changing channels** on the tv. Live free like we all are meant to do.  
So after all this time, here we are, like **the real Ghostbusters** only way more skilled.

I will never, ever, **abandon all hope** because I believe in us Sammy.

You and me no matter what.  
That's all I really need.


End file.
